This Time for Sure
by Le Neko-neko
Summary: She is the sunlight. Bright, warm and bringing comfort in her wake. She is the healing, and he is the pain. Most of all, he wanted nothing else but her to be his again.


**Le moi:** Uhhh…fairly angsty. I tried to insert some angst while writing this, and I'm not really that satisfied with the result, so, I'll leave it up to you guys. ._.

**Kingdom Hearts (c) Square Enix**

* * *

A sterile smell invades his nose as he opens his eyes, and his expression contorts into a disgusted one as he huffed.

He stares up at the dirty white ceiling. Slight, dark spots have marred it. He linked the spots in his head, wondering why it made a deformed face. It looked like a demon. His feet felt cold and numb because of the air conditioning. His knuckles were sore and his lip was busted. Other than that, he felt fine. Why is he in this hospital in the first place? He hated hospitals. The sterile smell and the stony expressions of the people in it. The monotonous buzz, the white uniforms, old people in wheelchairs. The uncaring doctors, the white tiles, the light green walls. All of it. It disgusted him for no whatever reason.

Maybe it's because it gives him the creeps? Vanitas scoffed at himself. Nah. Maybe because he just hated it? Yeah. That's it. He tried to kick the useless (thin) blanket off, but a sudden sharp sting in his ribs stole his breath, making him very still and grimace in pain. He must've broken a rib or two from that fight. Perfect. Explains how he's here.

Vanitas rips off the needle in his hand and disregards the red liquid seeping out of the tiny hole as he sucks it dry. He found his chucks at the corner of the bed and his soiled t-shirt and jeans on the worn out couch, and quickly hops into them, ignoring the flares of pain screaming at him to stop, lay down and rest. He takes his phone on the sidetable, shoving it down his jeans.

He opens the mini-fridge conveniently inside the room, grabs a plastic bag and proceeds to take all the canned drinks in there along with the snacks that were on the cupboard beside it. They won't mind anyway. With that, he exits the room and finds himself looking at the person leaning on the wall in front of him, smiling almost shyly at him.

"Hi," he blinked, "Going already?"

"It's you." He says flatly, not bothering to hide the bag of (stolen) chow.

"I had the feeling you were going to run off," she says softly, fiddling with her fingers. "And steal hospital food again."

He messes up the hair in his forehead. They were getting long.

"Yeah? Who cares?" He looks at the contents, "Who needs to pay in a convenience store when you can get free hospital food?"

"Is that why you get into fights in a daily basis?"

"Probably, maybe, could be." He shrugged, leaning back on his door. There was another reason, but he wouldn't dare say it. Not to her, at least.

Naminé smiles at him. "I could bring you homemade. It's not healthy to eat processed food all the time."

Her question doesn't surprise him unlike the first time she offered such. With her head down slightly, he took the moment to scan the whole of her, and thinks, God she's just so beautiful. He wants to say yes, over and over again because she's practically laying it out before him. She's been offering that for weeks, almost 2 months passed, and he answers with the same question when she does.

"No thanks." But he chooses to be stubborn and play it cool, because he's beginning to feel dependent on her again. So he detaches. It was better that way. That's what he likes to say. That's what he always tells himself.

Her head snapped up when he made a move forward and she fidgets uneasily while walking in step with him down the empty hallway. The silence was normal. The tense atmosphere was normal. He felt suffocated with her soothing presence. It was weird. There was a small rumble outside, as he looked out of the windows. It was dark and lightning appeared, another small rumble following.

"You know, I would really get in trouble for letting you go off like this," She informs him, and he glances at her as she sends him a small smile. "For several times already."

"Then why are you letting me get away with it in the first place?"

"I guess…I don't know…"

"What kind of answer is that?"

"It's better than anything." She rationalizes defiantly, and Vanitas smirked. She didn't change.

"Okay, Naminé."

"Are you going home now?" Naminé asks him again. He gave her a shrug and smirked lightly.

"Like I have a choice," he despises his neighborhood, really. This hospital was the only hospital in the 2 subdivisions, Radiant Garden and Hallow Bastion—the worst of the two, and fortunately, where he lived. But he's got no choice. He has a lot of enemies there and at least he's got some backup back here. "But I doubt its homely enough to be called 'home', goldilocks."

"And I thought you know better that I don't like being called blondie or goldilocks." she glared at him slightly, and he merely shrugged back until her face softened and she said, "I'm not giving up, though,"

They stop walking when she holds his hand, the one where he held the plastic twined between his long fingers. Vanitas stiffened lightly at her touch. "It still stands, if you ever do consider accepting it…"

Oh boy. She's asking that again. To live with her. To get out of that hellhole. But is she even aware of what she's saying? Living with her and getting herself involved with him would divert his enemies' eyes to target her instead. He didn't want that for her. She'd be frowned upon by society for housing an outlaw (no matter how mild) like him. And, most especially, choosing to live with her will only reawaken the memories between the two of them—particularly hours of sitting together on a couch watching movies non-stop, long hours in bed spent with soft, fluttering gasps and tangled fingers and—his fists clenched to try to stop the overflowing memories and visions of blushing cheeks and sweet, sweet skin.

Their history had an impact on the both of them and they both knew that. By being so close to her will drive him insane; be that desperate boy he was that vowed to hold her for as long as he shall live. Naminé deserved better. She didn't need someone like him.

So, why does she still want him to be a part of her life? He was the one who broke up with her—said things he didn't mean but hurt her nonetheless, choosing to leave her meant losing his last ray of sunshine. Vanitas had said to himself one day, that if right is leaving, he'd rather be wrong. But he broke that vow. He thought it was right he left, because he will only give her nothing in return. All he gave were misery and pain.

Heartbreak.

He took advantage of her kindness and selfishly claimed her for all of his. It wouldn't be fair for the two of them that all she did was giving and all he did was taking. So he left. Broke up with her and tried to leave his past behind. Obviously, it didn't happen and he's still stuck. No matter how much he threw himself into the darkness of the night, he'd still be looking. Cause she is the sunlight when the sun is gone.

He wanted nothing else but her to be his again.

"I'll give it some thought." The same answer. He pulled his hand away from hers. He felt cold again.

He had no guts to ask her that question again.

"Vanitas," she called him when he was a couple of meters away. He stopped but didn't look. He was going to run back to her if he did, "Be careful, out there."

He nodded the slightest bit—with her keen eyesight, he knew she saw it—and proceeded to leave.

Maybe she moved on already. If she did, and if she thought it was the same situation he was in, then she would be wrong. She is tomorrow, he is today.

Maybe the reason why she's asking him to live with her is because she pitied him.

It was a plausible reason. It was impossible for her to feel anything for him again.

She should despise him.

But even then, he'd still love her. He was a fool for her. Nothing could get past through his walls except her. He'd love her even if it meant heartache for him. If to hold her meant he'd have to bleed, then he was the martyr. Why else would he get into fights in a daily basis? Yes, he did that just so he could see her and for her to patch him up. Pathetic, right? Yeah, he already knew that. It was common practice since they were together. No other (female) nurse was allowed to fix his injuries other than her. It was Naminé herself who enforced that. She was the quietly jealous type of girlfriend back then. And he is surprised, to the least, that she still held on to that little fact, further giving him stupid hope. Sigh. Love is to blame.

He slumped down the curb and leaned against his hands, staring into the cars whizzing by once in a while, trying to calm his rapid and shallow breaths when he remembered about his body. Stupid ribs. His lungs felt like it was burning from the pain he intentionally placed upon himself, asking himself if this was really worth it.

No, it wasn't worth it.

Yes, it was worth it.

Maybe.

Vanitas sighed—which was cut short with a cough because it hurt to inhale dammit—and instead reached into the bag and pulled out a can. He looked down at it. Monster Energy - Khaos. His favorite.

He had a feeling she filled that fridge up with purpose with his favorites, seeing as the bag was filled with drinks and snacks he actually liked. And so he sat there, waiting. Waiting for what, exactly? For Naminé to take him back? He felt nauseous again, and he spit out a cough that carried along a small amount of blood in it. Ulcer? Most probably.

People who knew him from the fights they pulled him away from glanced at his direction, some hostile and some with pity while some were curiosity. He scowled at all them, his quiet way of telling them to fuck off and mind their own businesses. Stupid people and their stupid will to gossip about stupid things that doesn't concern their stupid lives.

She is the sunlight. Bright, warm and bringing comfort in her wake. She is the healing, and he is the pain. He only succeeded in making her cry more than he made her smile when they were together. Admittedly, he was an asshole. He only brought misery to her, and when he realized, he broke up with her, so she wouldn't have to make an excuse if she got tired of his attitude. Is she tired of seeing his face on a daily basis because of his own, self-destructive pattern? The answer will always be maybe. Unless she answered him herself.

She didn't do anything. It was all him. He was to blame for how things ended between them. And now he had the nerve to think that she would take him back? That's a new low for him. He didn't deserve Naminé. She deserved better.

Why did it have to be that difficult to let her go? He knows he can't ever let her go. Maybe someday, but not today, not tomorrow, or not the years to come. He'd let her go the day pigs fly and when the galaxies fall. So, yes, that would be far from happening in this lifetime. He wanted her to be his sunlight again more than anything else, and he would DIE for her. She was his; now and forever will be because he's a selfish bastard.

He rummaged inside the plastic, pulling out a granola bar and a box of Wheat Thins. He tossed the granola back and kicked the empty can of Khaos across the street, which, (un)fortunately, landed by the feet of some shitty street gang smoking pot and drinking cheap alcohol straight from the bottle. Vanitas eyed them in distaste.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing!?" The clown leader asked in outrage, slamming his foot down the can while Vanitas merely ripped open the box of Honey Mustard crackers. His favorite kind.

"Oops. Sorry." He popped a cracker in his mouth and chewed, watching them approach him slowly with indifference. "My foot slipped." And that was his great big mouth opening up again—the only thing that always got him in trouble.

"Oh damn right it slipped!" Another yipped, and they all began to pull out their weapons like nailed bats, steel bars and brass knuckles. The steel bars looked like the ones he would hold and grip on to at the past, "How about we make YOU slip your sorry ass in the dump?"

He stood up and pushed the plastic on a nearby wall, sighing in exasperation. _Here we go again..._

"You asked for it." He taunted. Taunting was only one of his specialties. He had many specialties to date.

One that was dominant among them was making Naminé cry.

* * *

A sterile smell invades his nose as he opens his eyes, and his expression contorted into a disgusted one as he huffed awake.

He stares up at the dirty white ceiling. Slight, dark spots have marred it. He linked the spots in his head, wondering why it made a deformed face. It looked like a demon. His feet felt cold and numb because of the air conditioning. This time, his whole body felt sore. He couldn't feel his face at all and there were like 3 needles attached up his arms. Good thing his legs only felt a little numb. He can still walk.

Two trips to the hospital in one day. _Perfect._

His eyes roamed. It was the same room. His eyes shifted to the side where he felt something sinewy and stringy against his arm. Blonde hair.

"Naminé."

She sat straight up. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were blotched horribly, and she even had these marks on her cheek from getting squished against the cloth.

See? He always made her cry. He's always the reason why she cries.

"W-what were you _thinking?_" She scolded him, her serene voice filled with anger and it was unnatural for him to hear it since she was such a cool-headed person. Naminé never got angry. "You can't take them all at one time!" She hiccupped, sniffling and wiping her face with her hands.

She was still beautiful.

"They started it." He shrugged. His lungs felt a little better. Were his ribs taken care of?

"I don't care!" She bit her lip, sniffling, and buried her face into a part of his arm that didn't have a bruise. "You could have gotten killed if not for Ven and Sora's help…I can't stand that," She sniffed, looking back up st him. "I don't want that to happen. Ever."

"Why do you still care?" He finally asked. This would probably the only time he could ask her, so he had to do it now. Now while the wounds were still open. "I was the one who broke it off, Naminé. Why?"

"Because I don't want to see you like this!" She fought, gripping his hand hard.

"I always lived like this. You don't have to take care of me." He was a stubborn one though.

"I don't care what you think! I chose to take care of you!"

"What would it take for you to just leave me alone, Naminé?" He growled, feeling his chest hurt from the injuries and his dilemma.

Why was she forcing herself on him? Why won't she just leave him like all of them did? How his family just turned away from him when he needed them the most, friends that weren't really friends but a bunch of backstabbers that only offered him comfort in exchange for something else? Why? What about her? She. She lives in a daydream where everything she could have wanted was given to her. She had a loving family, nice friends, and a GREAT LIFE ahead of her. He was even a little envious of her, but he threw that jealousy away because her happiness was his happiness. He was a jerk, but he loved her nonetheless. He didn't belong there. He didn't fit right for someone as perfect as her. Why? Because she is the sunlight, when the sun is gone.

And it will take this life of regret for him to ever be with her again. And it will take a lot to learn to forget about his mistakes. He had so many he had lost count of them already. He had countless people to apologize to, hopes and dreams of innocent people he just crushed, limbs he had broken, bonds he long ago severed. And a heart he tore apart like a piece of paper. And she still wanted to do something that concerned his _**vile**_ existence? She had to be kidding him!

"Nothing, Vanitas!" She stood over him, overshadowing his battered form while her eyes glistened. Dammit, don't cry. He fucking hated it when she cried. He's always the reason she cries. "I won't ever leave you because I promised you that I won't EVER leave!"

"Now you're just fooling yourself," he scoffed, turning his head to the side to avoid her eyes. "You're going to leave me. Like every one of them did. You'll see."

"I won't!"

"You never know."

"Why can't you just believe me!?" He inhaled sharply as she grabbed the front of his hospital gown and yanked it up, so he was directly facing her tear-streaked face. "All these years I spent trying to forget about you. About the times how much you made me cry so much, the things you said and what I didn't say. It was you who left, and I let you because maybe you needed it. Did you know how much I cried that night? When you just said you wanted to break up with me?" She sobbed quietly. "I spent sleepless nights thinking of calling you to go back, talk and maybe we could work things out, but I didn't. Because I thought I didn't really mean that much to you."

"That's…" No, she meant a lot to him than she could ever think.

"I would give up EVERYTHING just to be with you. I don't care about how many times you'll make me cry over and over. I don't care if I lose everything. Because I don't need _anything_ else but to _**be with you**_, Vanitas…." Her smile was watery. "And I will spend all of my days wondering if you ever felt the same."

She kissed his lips softly, and it was still there. The spark he always felt when he kissed her or she kissed him. His arms strained against the mattress as he rose up, returning the gesture he always did crave to do with her again. And the rush of life that filled every vein gave him strength he never knew he had. She melted into his kiss, pressing her body on his and he ignored the sting while surrendering to his will as his tongue re-acquainted with her own with demand and unmistakable need.

With a short inhale, he licked the bottom of her lip and bit down hard, making her moan softly as he sucked on the small injury as a way of apology. It was a habit. She kind of missed having sore lips from his demanding kisses. How she missed him, most of all, before he coughed, running out of breath while she gave him a watery grin,

"I love you," she giggled quietly as she cupped his face, staring into the depths of *****emerald greens, "And I still do." Her voice was so affectionate, so reassuring, so…loving.

Vanitas released a breath he didn't know he was holding. This is a dream, isn't it? This is just one of those dream-filled nights. Tomorrow will be as it always has been when he wakes up. He'd get into another fight, get some acceptable bruises, or, another round of broken bones, and fall to her again. He closed his eyes and opened them again, catching sight of big blue eyes staring at him and his arms came around her, disregarding the wires and burrowing his face into her neck. And he heard her sniffle on a laugh before she wrapped her own arms around his neck firmly but not enough to choke him.

She still loved him.

The reality of it made his embrace tighter. Naminé still loved him. She didn't give up on him. She never did. His heart soared to the highest point of nirvana itself. Corny as it is, it's the truth anyway, so he saw no point in denying it.

"Please don't leave again," Naminé buried her face into the nook on his neck, quietly pleading with him, and he pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"I can't promise that."

"Then I'll go with you." She looked up at him, catching his eyes in a determined, final stare. "I'm not letting you leave without me. That's final. Or, better yet, I won't let you." She finished with a bright, million-dollar smile.

Vanitas chuckled. "If right is leaving, I'd rather be wrong, baby." He smirked, watching the familiar blush spill on her cheeks, "I missed you," he finally breathed, caressing the skin of her reddened cheek as she closed her eyes with lingering happy tears slipping down as he wiped those away too.

"I missed you more." She snuggled closer to him, grinning giddily.

She is the sunlight. She was his sunlight again.

* * *

**There you go, all angsty at the start and a bit fluffy at the end. This killed me just for a bit, guys. :'3 I normally don't do these things yet I did so anyway because I love you guys! ^_^ It isn't the best, but I did my best and I hope you enjoyed reading this. Thank you for your time! **

***** _**- alright, I shall explain this sorcery. I tried to make this as realistic as possible, meaning no unusual hair/eye color, powers, shit like that and so on, so, since my usual plot formula states that Vanitas is Aerith's son, he has to have green eyes instead of amber. I tried to picture a green-eyed Vanitas once and it. Was. Beyond. Not. Bad. I think blue-eyed Vanitas is too mainstream already.**_

**Ciaossu~**


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